Why Finding a Good Running Partner Made All the Difference

The third day, first half.

It had been more than a week since I'd last laced up my shoes for a run. I dreaded it the way someone dreads sitting at their desk to take an exam they didn't properly prepare for.

This is gonna suck-this is gonna suck-suck-sucksucksuck.

I extended an invitation to God in case he felt like working on his cardio. He did, of course, because when does he ever not want to be included in what we're doing?

It was playful enough at first; I teased God as if we were in a competition. "Are you sure you can make it up this hill?" But we laughed because it was always I who was out of breath at the crest.

After so many pounds of my feet against pavement I ran out of topics, literally. Silence accompanied me past the fire station and beyond the house with the yappy dogs in the yard. I didn't have anything to talk about and panic perspired along my forehead.

God's going to be disappointed in the lack of entertainment on this run. I've gotta DO something to make this worth his while. (As if he had postponed his plans in China to be with me, as if this were my shot at proving myself to Heaven.)

Then I saw a tree in a yard I passed dozens of times before- light pink blossoms fluttered to the ground, changing their backdrop of cool blue sky to gritty black asphalt. All was beautiful, any way you sliced it.

My heart pulsed with gratitude for the temperature, my legs to move, the blossoms, my hair tie, the downhill parts of my route. It was all so meaningful in that moment; the authority of gratefulness caused the the critical voice to flee.

I had the best running partner.

"I can ask you a question 20 times
 You're patient with me, patient with me, patient with me
 You don't think I'm ugly, you don't think I'm ugly, you don't think I'm ugly
 Matter of fact you think I'm very, very, very, very, very, very, very special pretty."

It was that jumbled song which motivated me to cross the halfway point without slowing down. Here on this screen it looks like an infantile expression of a spasmodic thought but in my heart it was water: quenching and refreshing and eternal.

Don't doubt the incredible the things you might say to God in between fast breaths, what you might be surprisingly grateful for, what your heart longs to say in a moment of unabashed pursuit.

It can happen anywhere: dancing in your bedroom, walking through the park, with a caramel frappuccino in your car. Holy moments are waiting to be grasped. Go somewhere by yourself and say what you mean to say, whether you know it or not.